Devourer's Legacy: I Regressed With The Primordial Crest Chapter 13: Not All Wanderers Seek Home (1)

The tension in Lord Augustus's office was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Renard's declaration lingered in the air, heavy with implication.

"Oh?" Roderick's carefully maintained mask cracked ever so slightly. "And who might that be, young master?"

Renard t his gaze steadily. "I wonder... should I reveal this information to soone who took an entire day to respond to an assassination attempt on a Grim heir?"

Lord Augustus leaned forward, his weathered hands clasped on the desk.

"Renard, if you know sothing—"

"Grandfather," Renard interjected smoothly, "I know many things. But right now, what matters isn't who tried to kill ." He turned back to Roderick.

"What matters is what we're going to do about it."

"And what would you suggest?" Roderick's voice carried a dangerous edge.

Renard smiled, though his eyes remained cold. "Since the Blood Hounds are so... concerned about my safety, I'd like to request personal guards until the Awakening Ceremony."

Rodericke didn't even hesitate to reject him. "The Draemir territory already has capable guards—"

"Blood Hounds," But Renard wasn't one to give in. "I want Blood Hounds as my guards. And I'll choose them myself."

Silence fell over the room.

Even Lord Augustus seed taken aback by the demand.

Roderick's face darkened. "Young master, the Blood Hounds aren't simple guardsn. We serve a higher purpose—"

"Yes, upholding justice and protecting the family," Renard interrupted him again. "So surely protecting a potential heir who has already survived an assassination attempt falls within that purpose?" He paused, then added with deliberate emphasis, "Unless there's so reason you'd prefer I remain... vulnerable?"

Lord Augustus's chair creaked as he shifted.

"An interesting request, grandson. And a reasonable one, given the circumstances." His sharp gaze fixed on Roderick. "Wouldn't you agree, Roderick?"

Roderick's jaw tightened. He was now trapped—refuse, and it would seem suspicious; agree, and he'd have to put his n under Renard's influence.

"I'll need to select them carefully," Renard continued, pressing his advantage. "Young Blood Hounds, preferably."

"The younger ones lack experience—" Roderick protested.

"Perfect," Renard cut in. "They can grow into their roles. After all, I'm young too." He smiled innocently, though his eyes glead with challenge.

"We can learn together."

Lord Augustus's lips twitched slightly—his grandson today seed too devious for his age.

Roderick's face had already turned an interesting shade of red. He was at his wits' end, thanks to Renard, who kept on interfering with his word, but with Lord Augustus staring him down, he had no choice.

"As... as you wish, my lord." He bowed stiffly. "I'll have them assembled by noon tomorrow. You can pick the ones you want as guards—but please rember that they will only serve you till the Awakening Ceremony."

"Excellent," Renard said brightly.

"Oh, and Roderick?" He waited until the man looked at him.

There was an annoying expression on his face, which seed to be screaming, 'What now?'.

Renard, of course, didn't care for it.

"I'd prefer if this arrangent stayed within this room. No need to inform anyone at Tiara Castle, wouldn't you agree?"

Sothing flickered in Roderick's eyes – understanding, perhaps, or resignation.

"Of course, young master. Your safety is our primary concern—why would we publicize this matter?"

He left, smiling wryly.

Once the Blood Hounds left, Lord Augustus studied his grandson with new light. "You've grown, Renard."

He had expected to find a frightened boy after the assassination attempt, perhaps shaken and withdrawn. Instead, what sat before him was more akin to a seasoned politician—calculating, composed, and eerily perceptive. It was as if he was seeing a scheming old man rather than his young grandson.

"Near-death experiences tend to do that, Grandfather." Renard t his gaze steadily. "And I've learned that sotis, the most dangerous enemies aren't the ones holding the blade."

His grandfather's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You have indeed changed since your last visit. Back then, you wouldn't stop complaining about the long journey here. Now you speak words that are too mature for your age."

"It's not age that brings maturity, Grandfather, but responsibility." Renard's voice carried a weight beyond his years. "And I, for one, have too many on my shoulders." He moved to the window, watching the Blood Hounds mount their horses below.

"Tomorrow will be interesting."

"Indeed." Lord Augustus rose from his chair with deliberate grace.

He crossed the room to where Renard stood and placed a weathered hand on his grandson's head. The gesture was gentle, almost tentative—as if he wasn't quite sure whether he was touching the sa child he'd known before.

"I look forward to seeing who you will choose." He paused, his voice growing serious. "And Renard? Whatever ga you're playing... play it carefully."

Augustus was no fool.

From Renard's exchange with Roderick, he could tell that his grandson already knew who was behind the assassination attempt. And the way Renard had cornered Roderick into conceding control over the Blood Hounds—there had to be a connection. That was why his grandson wasn't naming them.

What was going on in that small head of his? Augustus couldn't quite figure it out, but one thing was certain—his grandson was planning sothing big.

Renard smiled, already thinking of the future he was going to change. "Always, Grandfather. Always."

As he watched Roderick's party disappear down the road, Renard's mind raced with plans. Tomorrow, he would et the young Blood Hounds—and among them might be faces he would rember from his past life. So might be the allies who had once died fighting by his side, enemies he had killed or maybe those who had simply vanished in the chaos of war.

This ti, he would choose more carefully.

This ti, he would build his strength before his enemies could strike. This ti, he would protect everyone—his sister, his mother, and all those who had fallen before.

And when the mont ca, he would be the first to strike!

But first, he needed to prepare for tomorrow. After all, selecting guards wasn't just about picking up the strongest fighters—it was about finding those whose loyalty, once earned, would never waver.

Looking for those who would stand beside him in the storms to co, no matter how fierce the winds of fate might blow against them.

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